The Murder of a Deacon and the Exile of a Father

After Jesus ascended, it took a while for his followers to settle down and get organized. One problem that quickly arose was the care for the poor, specifically the widow and orphans. They were being overlooked by the disciples because they were busy preaching the gospel and getting arrested. The complaint was brought up by the pastoral relations team and the disciples said to another, “It’s not right for us to forsake the word to wait on tables.” So they told the group to choose seven men who would oversee the care of the poor within their community. They would be responsible for making sure the widows were looked after, and any other need that arose within the community.

The community agreed, thinking this was an excellent idea and they chose seven men. One of these men in particular was a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit, named Stephen. We are not told a lot about Stephen except that he was full of grace and power, and did great wonders and signs among the people.

He argued with those who belonged to the synagogue of the Freedman. They could not match Stephen’s moxie and wisdom. They were angry with him and began to organize a coup to get rid of him. Eventually they convinced enough people that he was a heretic and the Jewish authorities called him to court to defend himself.

Stephen made them a long speech, the gist of which was that from year one the Jews had always been an ornery lot, stiff necked and circumcised as all get-out in department, but as cussed and mean as everybody else in the others. They’d given Moses are hard time in the wilderness, he said, and there hadn’t been a saint or prophet they hadn’t had it in for. The way they treated Jesus was the last and worst example of how they were just missing the boat, but doing their darnedest to sink it (Fredrick Buechner).

The authorities become incensed and filled with rage. For some strange reason, Stephen doesn’t come to invitation time after his sermon, instead reveals a vision he is having. He looks up and sees the heavens open up and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God. Well this angered the court even more. They covered their ears and rushed him with a loud shouts. They dragged him out of the city and began to stone him.

I am not sure if you have ever stoned someone to death. I doubt you have. It’s hard work, beating a person to death, especially a young person. You can’t just use pebbles and bottles. You have to get your hands dirty. You need the big rocks and you need to work up quite a sweat to finish the job. So they took off their coats, laid them at the feet of a young man named Saul, rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

The murder of Stephen ends a series of unfortunate events for the apostles. Things started off well. Hundreds upon thousands were joining the God Movement after Jesus ascended and the Holy Spirit descended on them. They were out doing amazing works until they hit a few bumps in the road. They encountered a pair selfish members who lied about their finances. Several of the apostles were beaten by the council after healing others. And then the disciples are tasked with solving a serious issue within the Movement, the care for the poor among them, specifically the widows. After Stephen’s murder, Saul begins to put the heat on the Movement, and many of them were scattered.

The murder of Stephen provides an honest tale of speaking something new into something old. If we were to place it in today’s context, you could see Stephen stepping into one of those mega-churches, standing in front of the preacher, and before the thousands seated there, “The Almighty does not live in man-made buildings. The prophet bears this our when he says, “The sky is my office, the earth is my den,” says the Lord. “What kind of house could you build me, or what kind of a resting place, seeing as how I’ve made everything already? (Isaiah 66:1, Cotton Patch Gospel).

You could see the preachers hearing this and stirring up one another. You could see them arguing with but unable to hold a candle to his wise and inspired answers. You could see those preachers calling up their friends and cohorts saying, “You won’t believe what we heard Stephen saying. We heard him saying some awful things about God and the Bible.” You could see them trying to get him arrested, claiming he is a communist, and how he’s against the American way of life.

We need to acknowledge, just like Jesus, it’s not atheists who murder Stephen. Stephen is murdered by the high priests and followers of God. Stephen is murdered by the Church. If I may, I would like to make a bold statement. Observing what informs our interpretations of scripture, our theology and image of God, I have come to the conclusion we no longer look through the lens of Jesus, but through the lens of twenty-four hour news stations, Christian network news, and other Christian celebrity personalities. In doing so, we have come to believe we are a persecuted group.

I would agree that we are persecuted group. We’re not persecuted by an anti-Christian government or lawmakers. The majority of the members of our three branches of government claim to believe in Jesus. In fact, the Supreme Court recently upheld prayer at the beginning of Government meetings. You may recall the Congressional chaplain taking congress to task in prayer to God for the government shutdown last year.  A prayer in which several praised him for. He did not end up like Stephen.

We’re not persecuted by antireligious groups. In fact, I wrote this sermon at a public restaurant in which I displayed my bible on the table, and prayed before eating. I wasn’t asked to leave. I wasn’t told to put my stuff away. I wasn’t taken out and beaten. We are gathered here this morning without the fear that someone will set our church on fire. The only fear I have this morning is being understood and making someone upset.

We’re not persecuted by the people we are lead to believe.

No, we’re being persecuted by those within the Church. We are persecuted by those who seek to maintain their worldly power masked as Christian propaganda. We are persecuted and divided by preachers and televangelists who build their flashy mansions on the sands of the dollar. We are being divided by those their own televised hour of commentary. We are persecuted by those who our brothers and sisters in Christ. The Church is persecuting the Church. The Church is persecuting anyone who dares to challenge the power structures of wealth found in the sermons of some of our prominent preachers.

I want to share with you my own experience of persecution. You may or may not be aware of this but I have experienced the pain of being fired from a church. I didn’t receive a letter from the President or Governor ordering my dismissal. I was fired because a deacon wanted my job, parents were upset about the type of kids showing up to the church. I was fired because I supported women in ministry. I was fired because I spoke out against the injustice of small town politics and silence regarding the abuse of many of the students. I was fired and we were literally given two weeks to get out of town by god-fearing Christians.

In 12 years of ministry and 33 years of life I have never been persecuted by an atheist or agnostic or a person of another faith. I have been questioned by them and engaged is some of the best conversations. However I have been called a liar, a heretic, and accused of apostasy. I have been accused of intellectualism because of my education and my critical interpretation of the scriptures. I have been told the devil has a grip on my life because of my struggles with depression. I have been called to council, cussed at and emotionally abused, all at the hands those who call me a brother in Christ.

It wasn’t the President who tried to get me expelled from seminary because of my understanding of Jesus. It wasn’t congress or the senate or the Supreme Court who fired my pastors and friends. It wasn’t atheists who organized secret meetings and secret emails, accusing the pastor of abandoning the biblical principles of the bible because he urged them to care for the poor and needy. It wasn’t an atheist who told the preacher she was sinning since she wasn’t preaching on hell, the inerrancy of the bible, the Holy Spirit, and the evils of abortion every Sunday. It was a deacon and when asked where he got that information, he said it was the 2 am telepreacher who told him so.

It wasn’t the atheist groups or Islamic groups that ran a young preacher out of a North Carolina town because of her gender. It was the local Baptist who did so with their pitchforks and threats of disassociation. It wasn’t the atheist who held the lives of starving children hostage until World Vision recanted their nondiscriminatory hiring policy. It was the evangelicals.

In my experience, my conversations with those who do not believe or do believe but no longer attend church, their reasons have nothing to do with our three branches of government or nonreligious groups. Their reasons are filled with stories of emotional abuse by their pastors, or other church members. Their reasons are filled with tormenting stories of alienation by other members because their skin color, gender, sexuality, their clothes, their hair, their tattoos, and their wealth were not up to the standards of the church. In my experience the enemies of the Church are the Christians who attend church.

It is safe to say that if Stephen were here before us. If he was preaching about how we were constantly missing the boat, all the while trying our darnedest to sink it, and how we’ve become not a people of God but a people of nationalism and power, I think we’d take him out back, and get to work on him.

There is good news though. You may recall a certain archconservative Jew named Saul stood by and watched the coats of the men who stoned Stephen. He never forgot that experience. He began chasing after them, seeking to end this God Movement before it could get going. He was the vilest of them all, as he often said of himself, until one day when he was on the road to Damascus and there he was blinded by the light of the Lord, and became a new creation. I wonder, as he stood there beside the coats, watching as a man is beaten to death, if he ever thought by the grace of God he would one day be on the other end?

I want to close with a true story: How many of you know who I would agree that we are a persecuted group. We're not persecuted by a anti-Christian government or lawmakers. We're not persecuted by antireligious groups. We're not persecuted from the people we are lead to believe.

No, we're being persecuted by those within the Church. We are persecuted by those who seek to maintain their worldly power masked as Christian propaganda. We are persecuted and divided by those who build their flashy mansions on the sands of the dollar. We are being divided by those with their own televised hour of commentary

Robert Carter III is?

Carter was the richest of all the members of the Revolutionary-elite and one of our founding fathers. He raised his children in a pristine mansion, owned a textile mill, over twenty plantations that produced cash crop, a bakery that could produce one hundred pounds of bread at once, a one-fifth share of Baltimore Iron Works, and nearly five hundred slaves. That’s more slaves than Jefferson and Washington combined.

Carter was a deist like Jefferson and Washington until the summer of 1777 when came down with fever heat from smallpox. He experienced what he called a grand illumination of the spirit. He began to explore religiosity, reading every book he could find, talking with ministers of every denomination, eventually confessing to the Church, “I doubted, till very lately, of the Divinity of Jesus Christ—I thank almighty God, that, that doubt, is removed.” He wrote to Thomas Jefferson a year later, “I do now disclaim it and do testify that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; that through him mankind can be saved only.”

Carter’s conversion went beyond pious posturing and words. The slaveholder who never intervened in overseers’ disciplining of his slaves now began to defend them openly. He scandalously he worshiped with not only Baptists, who at the time were thought to be ignorant and illiterate and were subject to summary arrest, he also worshiped with integrated congregations. On September 5, 1791, Carter put into action what the signers of the Declaration of Independence only wrote about, and freed every slave he owned. Not only did he free all five hundred (the largest number of enslaved human beings ever freed in America until the Emancipation Proclamation), he made provision for them during their transition to freedom, including housing that had been built for whites and arranging for them to farm their own shares on his plantations. He even refused to rent one of his plantations to a well to do Episcopalian minister because, Carter explained, his “present wish was to accommodate the poor.”

His actions caused a great deal of anxiety among the other revolutionary elite that some of his peers, including Thomas Jefferson, objected and claimed Carter’s actions were subversive to the colonies’ social balance and racial relations. They feared the potential of a backlash by white workers against their new competitors for wage labor. In other words, they feared his actions of freeing the enslaved would doom their revolt from a government that taxed without representation. They were afraid he was setting a dangerous precedent. He ostracized and his dangerous liberationist intentions were opposed at every turn.

Carter’s emancipation of his slaves cost him financially since slaves represented wealth in America’s economy and it cost him socially. To escape the controversy and the scorn of his peers, Carter moved to Baltimore, where he died in 1804, virtually alone. Yet his courage and willingness to put into deed the egalitarian, liberationist ethics of the faith that this nations’ Founding Fathers only put into words, and “laid the primitive groundwork for an interracial republic, challenging in numerous small instances the notion that young America would fall apart if blacks and whites were free at the same time” (Hendricks, Obery M. The Politics of Jesus: Rediscovering the True Revolutionary Nature of Jesus’ Teachings and How They Have Been Corrupted. p.185-87).

In the words of Paul for us today: For all of you are, children of God by the virtue of the Christian faith. You who were initiated in the Christian fellowship are Christian allies. No more is one white and another black; no more is one American and another foreigner; no longer is one a male and the other a female. For you are as one in Christ Jesus.

Love Is Stronger Than Death

It is impossible to narrow the kinds of suffering down into two manageable categories. Suffering of any kind is suffering. There are moments in life when we suffer for a purpose such as getting into college, finding a job, running a marathon, giving birth, or following the vision God has laid out for you. All of those things mentioned involve suffering because you are seeking to bring something new into the world. It’s painful suffering but it has a purpose. One cannot run a marathon without suffering through the training it takes to run twenty-six miles. One cannot give birth without having the pains of childbearing, no matter how many epidurals you may have. A church cannot follow its vision to serve God without encountering a few set-backs such as feelings of loss due to the change happening around you. These kinds of examples have a purpose. You are bringing something new into the old and doing so brings about a certain amount of pain and suffering.

There are moments in life when we suffer without a purpose, without a reason, without a logical explanation. Those moments include children who suffer abuse by the hands of authority figures such as parents, relatives, teachers, and strangers. Those moments include children who are kidnapped from their homes, sold into slavery or prostitution. Those moments include the loss of life to violent crimes and poor decisions. Those moments include those suffering from cancer, dementia, Alzheimer’s, AIDS, and other diseases.  They are examples of suffering in which there is no purpose and no reason. They are examples of our unfair world in which innocent people suffer because we are caught up in vicious cycles that bond us to the suffering of innocents. Our history has been built on the suffering of others.

Letters like First Peter have been used in our recent tradition to glorify suffering. Suffering, specifically suffering for Jesus, becomes a tool in which we are to engage in order to be commendable before God. We glorify suffering and we glorify death. In many ways we convey the message that death and suffering do not matter, and in turn we create an army of zealots who will follow anyone with a message of violence and destruction in the name of God. We create more Major Frank Burns than we do Captain BJ Honeycutts and Hawkeye Pierces or Radar O’Reillys. We build churches that are un-empathetic to plight of the poor and elderly, or those who suffer around them.

Without realizing it, they begin to turn on those within their own church. They begin to exile any who suffers and does not come to the conclusion that God has a plan for them so they should suffer in silence. The church becomes a place full of quiet suffers bullying others to hide their own pain. This theology leads to inquisitions, crusades, holy wars, violent and destructive acts, as well as life denying acts such as caring for the poor and elderly. Such a church’s slogan would read, “Dear children, you’re starving to death because Jesus wants you know how much you need him.”

Death and suffering, it can be argued from our current Christian perspective, is a tool in which we use to get from one side to the other, from one life to another. We have turned death into something that is glorious, passé, and unimportant. The grief process of death is swallowed whole by well-meaning friends with sayings such as, “He is in a better place,” “She is watching over you,” “Heaven has an angel,” or the worse one of all, “God needed your child to be with him.” The implication being one is not allowed to grieve because their loved one is in a better place, as if the family would prefer them to be there instead of here.

We have glorified suffering and death. We sing about death and suffering on a cross. We sing about being washed in blood. We cling to an old rugged and blooded cross, transforming its suffering and death into a joyful celebration. Clarence Jordan opted to use the word lynching instead of crucifixion in his Cotton Patch Gospel, saying, “Our crosses are so shined, so polished, so respectable that to be impaled on one of them would seem to be a blessed experience” (Jordan, CPG p.4). In other words we create a tenth beatitude: Blessed are the ones who are crucified for they will hang with Jesus.

We forget that First Peter was written to community without power. They are strangers in a foreign land. They were exiles trapped under the powerful heel of Rome. They were suffering extreme violent and perverted acts. They were being forced to suffer in order to divert the public’s attention away from their own suffering of hunger and oppression. These Christians were most likely poor, indentured servants, or slaves. They were not people of power. They did not have the power to change their circumstances in a manner conducive of members of the Movement.

Peter urges them to submit as a form of rebellion. He urges them not just take it like Jesus took it but to look to Jesus as their example. He urges them to not take up arms and resort to a violent rebellion that would certainly be squashed. No matter how much success Spartacus’ rebellion was, he was crushed by the boot of Rome and the 6,000 who had followed him were nailed to crosses lining the Appian Way. Peter offers another way. He tells them to follow in Jesus’ footsteps.

The response Peter makes an argument for is one we find within the Sermon on the Mount. He subtly refers to the passages on repaying evil with evil and the command to turn the other cheek. He does not, in any form, order the suffering Christians to just take it. He offers them a way to transform their enemies into their neighbors. What Peter is suggesting is reclaiming the power they have as human beings. It’s not power like those in authority. They cannot make any new laws. They cannot legally set one another free. They do not hold power given by authority of position or wealth. However, they do hold the power of participants in the Movement. It is the power that leans on the everlasting arms of a risen Christ.

Instead of giving into the vicious cycles of their context that leads to war, famine, greed, lust, and alienation, they are too lean on the everlasting arms of Christ by turning the other cheek. Peter does not any form glorify the suffering of his readers. He does not glorify their deaths. He speaks to another way.

How then do we apply this to our context? In the words of Indigo Montoya, “let me explain. No there is too much. Let me sum up.”

At 4:30 pm on February 1, 1960 four African American boys, dressed in suits and ties, sat down at the lunch counter at Woolworth's in Greensboro, NC, waiting to be served. Their order was never taken. They were denied first by a white waitress who reminded them, "We don't serve Negroes here" and then chastised by an African American girl, who helped with the steam table, "You're acting stupid, ignorant! That's why we can't get anywhere today. You know you're supposed to eat at the other end." The boys stayed seated (Wolf, Miles. Lunch at the 5 & 10 p.12).

These four college students began a movement that would sweep the South. They only hoped to do something local. They simply wanted to obtain service in a store which welcomed African Americans at all but one counter. They sat there.

The manager was instructed by the company to just let them sit there and not to say anything else to them. The belief was they'd get bored and leave. Ezell Blair Jr., Franklin McCain, Joseph McNeil, and David Richmond did not leave. The four men inspired a movement of sit-ins throughout the South in response to segregation laws that continued to alienate and exclude others because of their skin color.

The Greensboro sit-in exemplifies what Peter writes, “When abused, he did not return abuse; when suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.” Those four young men were being refused the basic need of food because they were sitting at the wrong counter. They were being denied the right of life. Instead of passively suggesting, what Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls cheap grace, the kind of grace of which “people congratulate themselves that they are forgiven, without repenting; that God is on their side, without following the way of God as revealed in Jesus; that they are Christians, without it making much difference in their way of life (Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Cost of Discipleship, p.40, 45ff).” The four men confront in the injustice through the nonviolent means of their presence. Their presence and the denying of food forces the other customers to come to terms with their own participation in segregation. They do not let Woolworth’s deny their humanity. They transform the suffering of their people.

Dr. King said it best: “What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” The greatest example of this power is seen in the cross.

The cross is the nonviolent means Jesus uses to confront the injustice of nationalism, power, corruption, alienation, segregation, and does not allow space for one to remain as they were. Jesus nonviolently reclaims his power by going to the cross. It is a transformative initiative. Jesus does not accept the cross instead he transforms the cross. He engages in his own transformative practices within the Sermon on the Mount by turning the other cheek when he is nailed to the cross. He hangs there for all the spectators to gaze upon leading to the humbling of many in the crowd and the confession of a Roman captain.

The cross is God’s nonviolent response to our inhumane violence. As Jesus hangs there, we are confronted with the consequences of our actions and inactions. We see an innocent man dying before our eyes because we chose to participate in the violent vicious cycles of alienation and separation. We see an innocent man dying before our eyes because of our inactive responses to those vicious cycles. Jesus never glorifies his suffering and death.

The bible tells us that love is more powerful than death, stronger than the grave. The scriptures tell us love cannot be drowned by oceans or floods; it cannot be bought, no matter what is offered. It’s hard to believe such a thing as much as we’re surrounded by death and suffering. It’s hard to believe love is stronger than death. Death and suffering, in time, come for us all. Death does not discriminate. No matter your race. No matter your wealth. No matter you celebrity status. Death will find us and claim us. It’s just a matter of time. It feels like death has won.

Noah survived the flood, still he died. Looked like death had won. Isaiah prophesied of the lion and lamb lying down together, still he died. Looked like death had won. Peter walked on water, still he died. Paul survived shipwrecks, snake bites, imprisonment, still he died. John wrote of a new heaven and a new earth, still he died. We have seen scientist, actors, presidents, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, children, and friends, come and bring great light to the world, still they died. And it feels like death has won. Still the bible kept saying love is stronger than death. Like two gladiators in a fight, every time they entered into the ring, it looked death had won.

As hard it is to believe, I hold onto my faith and I got up this morning to tell you that 2,000 years ago loved rolled into the ring and said, “Wait a minute, death. You’ve been bullying people for a long time but I want to set the record straight, love is greater than death.” Love rolled up his sleeves and they fought all over Jerusalem and wrestled all through the cross. The fight went down into the grave and death said, “See, I’ve done to you what I’ve done to all the others.” Death started having a party that Friday night. It was one of those weekend parties. It lasted all through Friday night and into Saturday. It looked like death had won. But early Sunday morning, love rolled up his sleeves and said, “Wait a minute death. Wait a minute.” Snatched death and took the victory out of the grave” (adapted from TD Jakes’ reflection at Whitney Houston’s funeral).

I look at that cross, covered in the stains of injustice and the blood of the innocent and I reminded that love is stronger than death. The cross is power correcting everything that stands against love. Death and suffering of the innocent stands against love. Let us show our empathy to their suffering. Let us work together to end their suffering. Let us show this world that death and suffering do not win.

Broken Bread and the Poured Out Self

In the summer of ’95, at youth camp in Falls Creek, Oklahoma, I had a vision. Every year at this camp, on the last full day of camp, they would hold a race. For years it had been about a mile and a half run but this particular summer they changed it to a 5k. Now, I was 15 and had won several races in middle school including running a 5:15 mile that year at the 8^th grade district track meet, but I never ran longer than 2 miles. The race began and off we went through the mountains of Southern Oklahoma.

At the second mile I felt a voice telling me I was to quit football and be a runner. Now, the voice startled me because I was raised in a proper Texas Christian household with a coach as a dad. I figured I must have heard wrong or wasn’t really hearing God, because God would not tell a Texas boy to quit football and run track. My dad concurred with me so I ignored the voice.

It worked out for the best that year as I was still growing into my body and my joints weren’t exactly adjusted and I couldn’t run without my body breaking down. So I played football like a good Texas boy until the following year. Then I rebelled, quit football, went straight cross-country and track, won that race at Falls Creek the next three summers in a row, went to college on a scholarship, and earned my degree. I learned rather quickly I followed the right vision even though it took me a year to give in.

The writer of the Gospel of John had a vision as well. His vision was the pouring out of God’s word over the people of Israel. The vision of John’s gospel is the breaking of bread and the pouring of God’s self in Jesus. John believed that the Word was in the beginning, was with God and is God. For John, the Word of God is not a book that sits on our bookshelves or tables collecting dust. The Word of God is the flesh and blood Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. It’s not hard to believe then that Peter would believe the same thing, thus his vision in his letter is that of a people who are born anew, not of perishable seeds such as money, but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring Word of God, Jesus.

Since we are currently exploring a vision for our church, I would like to share with you my personal vision, one that is the foundation of my ministry and I would like share a few stories.

A few years ago I sat in room with eleven others at a visioning retreat. It was to be the accumulation of 18 months of prayer and discernment for our church, and we were tasked with writing the future story of our church. As we sat in front of a blank whiteboard, I started to hear words that warmed my soul. I heard words such as “healing”, “wholeness”, “sanctuary”, words that held a great sense of meaning and redemption in them. Words that I thought would make the church into a great place for the hurting, the lost, the poor, the young, the old, the outcast, the broken, the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the victim of abuse, the offenders, the addicts; people in need of reconciliation and God’s infinite, abiding love through Jesus.

It’s a lofty vision and I left that retreat with a great sense of hope. Finally, we had a vision that was going to be worth the pain it was going to take to make the vision a reality. A few weeks later, a letter was sent out blasting the vision and the future of the church. In the letter I could tell that all the hope I had felt just a few weeks before was not going to be for that church. I knew as soon as I read the letter my time was coming to an end because I couldn't go back. Since then that vision became my personal vision of ministry. It is the pouring out of the self of others so that they may come to know Jesus in fullness and made whole in every way.

You see, I believe with all my heart that the Gospel message is seen best by the pouring out of God’s people. We see the Gospel come to life through God pouring out, God with us, in Jesus. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus pours out his spirit on his disciples. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus pours out his compassionate healing and miracles. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus breaks the bread and the pours the cup. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus’ body is broken and his blood poured out. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus dies upon the cross. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus gets up early three days later and walks out of the tomb. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus pours out his spirit onto Mary and Mary, comforting them and telling them to go and tell the others. We see the Gospel come to life as Jesus is recognized by his disciples when breaks the bread and feeds them. We see the Gospel come to life when he appears to Thomas and says, “See my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side.” The Gospel comes to life only when it is poured out for others.

The writer of 1^st Peter compels his audience to know they have snatched from their traditional, futile ways, not with perishable items like money and jewelry but they pouring out Christ himself. The writer compels his audience to know since they are now followers of Christ, they have been born anew. He remind us readers of Jesus telling Nicodemus that one must be born again. Peter holds to the belief that those who follow Jesus have been born of the Spirit, born from above. Those who follow Jesus are not born of this world but are children of the Movement, of the Kingdom. Those who follow Jesus are to pour themselves out so others may be filled with the hope, peace, joy, and love of Christ.

I was working on an article I had due for a class last March and I came across a story that made me think of what Peter is getting at.

Once upon a time, there was a priest named Malcolm who worked in a parish that developed a particular ministry to rehabilitate young offenders which included a furniture resource center, which took old furniture and restored it and made available to any in need. One of those offenders was a teenager named Paul. Paul was 15 years old with a history of misusing drugs. He supported his drug habit by breaking and entering homes and stealing valuables that he could pawn off. During his ministry, Malcolm came to know a woman named Kristel.

Kristel lived with her young daughter in a house down from the church. She too had a drug problem and financed by bringing men back to her house at night while her daughter was asleep. When Malcolm came to visit her, he discovered there was no furniture in the house, except a lone mattress. Everything else had been sold to pay her pimp. Malcolm thought she could benefit from the furniture resource center.

The day came when Paul and Malcolm filled the truck with tables, chairs, cupboards, chests of drawers, and wardrobes, along with toys, games, and books for the little girl. They arrived at Kristel's home and knocked. No answer. No Kristel and no little girl. Having no idea what happened to them or where they were, Paul had an idea. “Tell you what,” he said, “how about if we just take all the stuff in anyway—she'll get a surprise when she walks in!” It took Malcolm a little while to understand what Paul was suggesting. “You mean, break into the house?” but as soon as he said it, he recalled that a mere lock was no obstacle for Paul. In no time they were in the house, and the furniture was all off the truck, the toys all over the floor.

Then Kristel came home. She saw the opened door and ran into the house, shocked and terrified. She saw Malcolm and burst into tears. “I can explain--” he said but quickly realized that the tears of horror had turned to tears of joy. Her little girl had toys and books. She herself had comfortable chairs and a place to eat and talk and relax. Malcolm was thrilled to see her joy and then he saw Paul. Paul was crying too, but for a different reason. He'd never made someone happy before. He knew how to break into houses and knew that he had broken hearts and lives by doing so. Now he had broken into someone's house, into someone's life, and for the first time brought joy not tragedy, hope not despair. His new life had begun.” (Wells, Samuel. Improvisation p.148-149).

The purpose of the Christian life is not to exclude others from the table of Christ. The purpose is to make room for them at the table. Peter knows a thing or two or three about being excluded from the table of Christ. You may recall it was Peter who was the first disciple to confess Jesus as the messiah. He immediately followed it up by getting on to Jesus for talking about his upcoming death. You may recall it was Peter, sitting near Jesus, who said, “I will never leave you, even if others run away with their tales between their legs. I will never leave you.” You may recall Jesus saying, “Peter, I tell you the truth. Before the rooster crows, you will say you never knew me three times.” You may recall Peter gets angry and declares that he will never disown Jesus publically. You may recall Peter claims to not know who Jesus is three times before the rooster crowed.

You may not recall the humiliation and hurt Peter felt inside knowing he did exactly what Jesus said he would do. Peter must have felt like Judas. The pain setting in as he realizes he has sinned against his Lord, against his friend. While Judas was overcome by his guilt that he could no longer believe in God’s mercy, and hung himself, Peter returns to the Lord with mourning. You then may recall Peter ran to the tomb, being the first to step inside and find it empty. You may recall Peter swimming to shore when he discovers Jesus waiting for him with a fire and breakfast. You may recall Jesus asking Peter, “Do you love me? Feed my sheep” three times as the sun came up. You may recall that tradition says as Roman soldiers under the order of Emperor Nero nailed Peter to a cross, he told them he was unworthy to die in the same manner as his Lord. The soldiers turn his cross upside down. You may recall that tradition says it took Peter three days to die.

St. Laurence was a deacon of the church in Rome in the third century, during the persecution of the Christians by Emperor Decius. The Roman magistrate ordered Laurence to bring into the church all its riches. Instead of resisting violently or falling victim to the vicious cycles of alienation, Laurence turns the other cheek by asking for three days to consider what the riches of the church were. On the third day, Laurence invited the magistrate back to the church. As the magistrate walked in he was not treated to mountains of gold and silver, but to a sanctuary filled the poor, the lame, the orphans, the widows, and said, “These are the riches of the Church” (Wells, p.146-147).

Peter, St. Laurence, Paul, and others in our past, and our present understood, first hand, the purpose the Church. It was not to exclude others from membership or exclude others from his table. The purpose of the Church to was go out to the ends of the earth and bring people, from all over, to Christ’s table. The purpose of the Church is to feed a broken world. What feeds a broken world? Exactly what Jesus feed those around him, broken bread and a poured out self.

A God Without Limits

Audio here

As a pastor, I am not ready for Easter Sunday. I don’t feel ready. Palm Sunday is next week, the Maundy Thursday, sunrise and worship services aren’t prepared yet. It seemed so far way just a month ago, now it is only two weeks away. As a follower of Jesus and participant in God’s Movement, I am ready for Easter. I am ready for life to reign over death. I am ready for winter to hibernate and let the sun shine, the rain fall, the grass and flowers grow, and until the find their way inside, the wildlife to awake.

Easter feels unexpected this year or maybe I just don’t feel prepared for it.

I guess that’s life though.

Today’s scripture is a familiar story. It’s a long story but it’s a familiar story and we know how it ends. Jesus and his disciples are on the road when they receive word that their friend Lazarus is sick. Jesus decides to stay for two more days where they are. Then he tells the disciples that they need to go to Judea again. The disciples are taken back, “Lord, we were just there and the church leaders tried to string you up, and you want to go back?”

Jesus answers, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble because they do not have the light in them. Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.”

The disciples looked at each other and one of the said, “If he’s asleep, he’ll wake up.” So Jesus spoke plainly, “Fellas, Lazarus is dead and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, the twin, said to the group, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, went out to meet him, and said, “If you had been here, Jesus, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”

Jesus tell her that her brother will rise again, and she says, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus tell hers, “I am the resurrection and the life. “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me, will never die. Do you believe this?”

She says she does. Mary rushes out to him and says the same thing Martha does, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Jesus sees her weeping, and everyone who came to comfort her weeping, and he was greatly disturbed in his spirit and deeply moved. He asks where they have laid Lazarus and they tell him to come and see. Then Jesus began to weep. Those around him began to say to one another, “See how he loved him! Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Jesus is greatly disturbed once more, walks up to the tomb, and tells them to move the stone. Martha tells Jesus that Lazarus has been dead for four days and there’s a pretty bad stench, “Are you sure, Jesus?”

“Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” Jesus answers.

They roll away the stone and Jesus looks up, says a prayer, and then cried, “Lazarus, come out!”

And out he came, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Our story is a long story. It’s a familiar story though. A familiar story that we all know in some form or at least know in part. It’s a familiar story in which we know how it ends. We know what Jesus is going to do and we know how Jesus is going to do it.

I may not be ready for Easter Sunday from a pastoral, worship perspective, but I am ready to hear to the voices of the disciples whisper among one another, “Is it true what Mary said? Is it true that he is not there?” I am ready to hear the hurried, frantic footsteps of John and Peter. I am ready for the amazement that comes with Easter. I am ready for life.

It’s been a long winter, much longer than the six weeks that groundhog predicted. At each turn of the day, when it looked like spring had finally established dominance, that life was going to show up, winter lets us know it’s still around. Death lets us know that it’s still lurking in the back.

Death cackles, “Ha-ha, you may think life is happening, but the truth is you’re on the road to death. In time, you will come to me.”

True. Death is never that far away. It’s hiding there in the shadows, just waiting until his time to claim us. As unpleasant as this is to say, eventually death will claim us all. And during the winter/spring tussle we see how close death really is.

While death is a reality in our world, it does not appear to be a reality in God’s. It’s not to say that we will not ever die, it’s to say that death does not have the final word. Death does not get to have the final say. God has the final say.

We see in the Gospel of John that Jesus wears two different wristwatches. One watch is set to ordinary time. Its 11:30ish on a Sunday. The other is set to God’s time, eternal time. In ordinary time, death is finality. In the ordinary time, death says hell has the final word. In ordinary time, we are trapped. In ordinary time, we are slaves to protective habits, to oppressive, corrupt power structures. In ordinary time, we are forced to worship a God who is limited to a place, high above us, beyond the crystal sea. In ordinary time, we always know winter is coming.

God’s time tells us something different. God’s time is eternal time. In God’s time, Jesus refuses to march to the atheistic anxiety of a world that tells us we’re running out time. In ordinary time we tell Jesus that he can’t go into the tomb of Lazarus, there’s death in there. In God’s time Jesus answers, “This isn’t about death, this about the glory of God.” In God’s time, “with eternity in his eyes and a manifestation of everything he was and is, Jesus walks up to the tomb, and moves into a world of death with life (Thomas Long).” In God’s time, Jesus walks up to the tomb and through the stench of death yells, “Lazarus to come out!” And come out he does full of life. In God’s time spring has arrived. In God’s time, life wins.

I read something the other day that stuck with me. In this ordinary time of ours, the church is constantly singing about the day we’ll fly away, about a day that is far away. In this ordinary time of ours, God is limited to where God can go. In this ordinary time of ours, we claim God’s goodness bars him from the tombs or gates of hell. In ordinary time we say, “You can’t open that tomb? Death is in there and it smells rotten.”

God’s time says, God is so great that he says, “If you make your bed in hell, I will be there.” And in God’s time, death and hell pose no barrier to Christ. Meaning the church, God’s people, in God’s time with no barriers are able march into the death of hell, and set up church full of life and hope. And God's people would say, "We're going to hell! We've got church down there!" In God’s time God conquers the hell of death, because God’s time is not bound to the realities this world. In God’s time, this eternal time, life has a way of breaking through. In God’s time we know who wins out in the battle between death and life.

The Lazarus story and the death of Jesus are familiar stories. We know how the story really ends.

A few months ago, I had just finished the graveside portion of Virginia Langford’s funeral, and Bill came up to me to tell me what a great sermon Lacy wrote, and I asked him a very deep question. I asked, “Does it bother you, as you get older, to attend all these funerals of those who are near your age?” And he said, in the only way he can with that little laugh of his, “No. It gives me hope.”

That’ll preach.

German theologian, Karl Barth once wrote, “In Jesus, God makes time for us, takes time for us, gives time to us. And Jesus is the Lord of time.”

Yes, I am ready for Easter. Are you?

Then join with me as we come to this table of life, the Lord’s Table and feast together.

Do We See or Are We Blind?

Today’s sermon is about blindness. Well, it’s more about those who see but are blind. Let me to tell you a story.

Jesus and his disciples are on the road to the cross. Walking through town walk by a man, let’s call him Eugene, who was born blind, the disciples ask their teacher, “Who sinned? Eugene or his parents?” Jesus tells them, “Neither. Eugene is blind so that God’s work may be revealed in him.”

Jesus spits on the ground and puts mud in the man’s eye, tells him to go wash off in the pool. Eugene does as he is told and washed and came back able to see. Everyone is astonished. The neighbors and passerby ask one another, “Is this not the same Eugene who used to sit and beg?” He kept telling them that it was him but they kept on asking, “How were your eyes open?”

Eugene tells them that a man named Jesus had made some mud, spread it over his eyes, and told him to go wash off and he received his sight. His neighbors, shocked, ask him where Jesus is but he doesn’t know. So they take him to the Pharisees. And we learn that he was healed on the Sabbath. The Pharisees ask Eugene the same questions his neighbors did, so he tells his story once more.

The Pharisees quarrel among themselves about this miracle. Some condemn Jesus because he healed on the Sabbath while others argued he couldn’t perform such signs if he was a sinner. Finally they ask Eugene, “It was your eyes he opened, what have you to say about him?” Eugene tells them he believes Jesus is a prophet but the Pharisees don’t believe him.

The Pharisees call in his parents and ask, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind?  How then does he see?” Eugene’s parents scoff, “Yes, he is our son. Yes, he was born blind. But we do not know how it is that he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him. He’s a big boy. He can speak for himself.”

So the Pharisees demand Eugene to give glory to God because they know Jesus is a sinner. Eugene responds, “I don’t know if he is a sinner or not. All I know is that I was blind but now I see.” They ask him again, “How then? What did he do?” Eugene looks at them, shakes his head, “I have already told you but you won’t listen to me. Why do you want to hear again? Do you want to be his disciples?”

The Pharisees grew angry, saying, “We are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses. But as for Jesus. We do not know where he comes from.”

Eugene amusingly answers, “Here’s the astonishing thing! You don’t know where comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. Not Moses. Not Elijah. Not David. Not Samuel. If this man was not from God, he could do nothing.”

The Pharisees defiantly stare him down, “You were born entirely in sin, and you are trying to teach us?” And they drove Eugene out.

Word spreads through town and Jesus hears what happened Eugen. When he found him, Jesus asked, “Eugene, do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “Who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him?” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking to you is he.” Eugene shouted, “Lord, I believe!” and worshiped him.

Looking around him, Jesus says, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees heard him and said, “Surely we are not blind are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

I recently heard an all too familiar story about a preacher during his first year of seminary. One evening, a church had over several of the students to preach. Well, John Kinney got up to speak and started in. He got all riled up and started preaching, “Coon says this. Wilmore says this. Kierkegaard says this, Schleiermacher says this.” Over and over, he preached for about an hour on everything he ever read. As he preached he noticed the congregation wasn’t responding has they normally would. In fact they were starting to give each other looks.

You know what I’m talking about, right? It was the look that said, “What in the blue heaven is this boy talking about?” At first they give that look to their neighbor. Then they’d give that look to the neighbor behind them. Then they gave that nonverbal signal where they turn half way around in their seat and you see more of their back than their face.

John Kinney finished his sermon and sat down. The pastor got up and thanked the fine students for coming over and invited one of the deacons to close out in prayer. The deacon stood up and began to pray, “This evening, my heavenly father. I thank you that you brought me through another rotation of the earth. I thank you brought me through another day. That I’m able to be in this church tonight and see the western sun. I thank you, Lord. I thank you, Lord that you enable me with a reasonable portion of strength and health that I could gather in this church one more time. I thank you, Lord. I thank you, Lord that you saw beyond my fault and saw my need, picked my feet up from muck and clay and turn me round and planted my feet on solid ground. I thank you, Lord. That your darling son, Jesus came down from forty and two generations of time and hung, bleed, and died on a tree of torture, and got up early, I said, got up early, one morning with all power in his hands. And God, I’m gonna lay down my head for sweet rest tonight, believing the angels will watch over me and rise in the morning, my sheet won’t be the winding cord of a grave cloth and I will feel the blood warmth flow through my veins and my golden moments will roll on a little longer. I thank you, Lord that you lifted me from the pit of sin.”

He kept going on, and the people who had turned their back had turned back around and were saying, “Amen.” “Pray, deacon. Pray. Thank you, Lord”

The deacon got to the point in his pray where he said, “And Lord, tonight with all this stuff we heard, well, Wilmore, I don’t know. Well, Kierkegaard, I don’t know. But there is somebody I know but I haven’t heard his name all night. I think I’ll call him now. Jesus! Jesus! And Lord, when I finish my journey across the sands of time and I stand by the banks of Jordan as the ships go by, and Peter bids me to get on board. Help me to sail across the storm tossed waters of life and walk down the gangplank of salvation. And as soon as my feet strikes on Zion, I will praise you.”

After he finished, John Kinney said to himself, “I’m the one in seminary. I’m the one here to teach you, but when a deacon with nothing more than a 5^th grade education gets up to pray, you get happy? That’s what’s wrong with the church today.” After the service, a lady walked up to him and said, “I can see your pain. But the Lord showed me that there is a fountain bubbling up in you. Young man, I need to tell you something, if you are going to make a difference in this church, and you want folk to drink from that fountain, you best learn to bring my water in a cup I recognize.”

There are things in this world that make us blind even though we think we can see clearly. As I read the gospel story, I was struck by the Pharisees’ response to the man’s testimony. They are unable to see what has happened. They are so concerned about Jesus breaking the law by healing on the Sabbath, that they cannot appreciate the gift they have just witnessed. Here is a man, who has been blind his entire life, he now can see, they should be celebrating! They should be dancing in the streets, firing up the barbeque, and having a good ol’ fashion hootenanny. But they don’t. Instead they question the man over and over again until the man has enough.

He tells the Pharisees, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. Not once since the world began has someone born blind every had their eyes opened. At least none that we have heard. It is obvious he’s not a sinner because God doesn’t listen to sinners. And we know he is from God because if he weren’t he couldn’t open up my eyes!”

The Pharisees become angry because the man dared to teach them. Here is a man with zero education, pointing out to these highly educated religious leaders, these bible believing church folk, something they should know, and what do they do? They throw him out? They drive him away, yelling, “You are nothing more than a blind man, born in sin, and you are trying to teach us?”

They drive him away.

They drive him away because God gave him water from the living fountain in a cup he recognized. The man understood that no one could do such an act without being from God. He knew his history that not once since the world has been made has someone born blind been made to see. He recognizes Jesus as the messiah because he remembered what Isaiah said, “and out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see.”

The blind man recognized Jesus. The ones who could see the most clearly could not so they drive him away.

We’d do well to remember this story as we journey on the road to Easter. Jesus is not turned away by the blind, the deaf, or the poor. He is not turned away by the lame, the crippled, the orphans, or the widows. He is not turned away by the tax collectors and prostitutes. No, he is turned away by followers of the law. He is turned away by the Church. He is nailed to the cross, not by soul sick sinners, but by healthy bible believing church folk. There’s a lesson there for us. We’d do well to remember.

Get on the Road and Stay on the Road!

One evening in Charleston, South Carolina, a young man was feeling very homesick. He had left his home in Kentucky and moved to Charleston to become a professional storyteller. He felt lost and lonely. On his way home, he saw lit up in the dimming light, St. John’s Reformed Episcopal Church.  The shutters were thrown open, and they were having Thursday night experience meeting. He heard the voices singing, “Victory in Jesus” and “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks” and he stood outside the church listening when a little old black lady tapped on his shoulder. Looking at him, she realized he needed what was going on inside, ushered him in and he worshiped with them.

After the singing was done, the preaching began. The preacher got up and read from the text, “Jesus was on the road and all kinds of people were saying they would follow him. One man said, “I’ll follow you but first let me first go and bury my father”, and Jesus told the man, “Let the dead bury the dead but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.” Jesus finally said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit to work my field.”

The preacher finished reading the gospel and said, “Our story tonight is about Jesus being on the road. Turn to the person on your right and say, ‘Get on the road!’” and they turned to the person on their right and said, “Get on the road!” Then he said, “Now turn to the person on your left and say, ‘Get on the road!’” and they turned to the person on their left and said, “Get on the road!”

He started slow, the way black preachers do, “You’re on the road, ladies and gentleman. You’re on a journey with Jesus and you’ve got to stay on the road with him. You can’t get distracted. You can’t get sidetracked. Stay on the road.” His cadence picked up, “You women come to me saying, “Oh pray for me. God’s closed up my womb and I can’t have any children.” And we pray for you and God does a miracle and you have five children, ain’t none of them are in Sunday school. I ask you why aren’t they in Sunday school and you say, “Oh I have one in diapers, one allergic to everything, another has baseball. Oh I don’t…” You take God’s blessing and turn it into a curse, get on the road! You boys come to me and say, “I can get a job because I don’t have a car.” So we pray for you and get you a car and I say, “Why aren’t you in church?” and you say, “Oh I’m washing my car.” Get the car on the road to church and Sunday school! Get on the road!”

“You may be on the road following the Lord and you may feel down, you may feel alone, you may feel weary. But I’m here to tell you, you are never alone! The Holy Spirit is with you wherever you go. The Greek word for the Holy Spirit is parakletos. Let me put it to you plainly,” he said as he found his rhythm, “The holy spirit is your parachute. He will help you if you fall. He is your parasol, he will shield you from the storm. He is your paralegal, he will help you in a time of trial. He is your paratrooper, he will still the enemy and the avenger. He is paramedic, he will save your sin sick soul!” (Adapted from Tim Lowry’s spoken story, “Stay on the Road”).

The Israelites are on the road with God. They are wandering through the desert, afraid of the unknown, afraid of where their leader is taking them. Their leader who used to be the prince of Egypt. They are tired and they are thirsty. They demand for their leader to provide for them. “Give us water to drink!” Moses is taken back and becomes defensive, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” In other words, “Don’t be mad at me. I’m just doing what the Lord says.” But the people, who were thirsty and afraid, heartbreakingly ask, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children, and our livestock with thirst?”

So Moses does what any good pastor does and cries to the Lord, “What shall I do with these people? They are ready to call a session and have me fired!” The Lord answers Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of your deacons with you; take that staff in your hand, the one you struck the Nile with, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so the people may drink. Then get on the road!”

Moses did so, in the sight of the deacons. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because they quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?”

Get on the road!

We are on the road with Jesus. As a church we have been on the road with Jesus for 223 years. We have seen God do amazing things through the work of his Spirit, just as the Israelites experienced the Lord providing food through manna and quail. Yet, as we journey and get thirsty, we forget what the Lord has done and wonder what the Lord will do and we quarrel with one another, “Is the Lord among us or not?” 

We look around and see that we’re low on money. We look around and see buildings falling apart. We look around and see too many people getting older and not enough younger faces to compensate. We look around, see the well is about dried up, not a rain cloud in sight and we are getting thirsty. Give us water, Lord!

And Lord says, “Stay on the road!”

We forget what God has done, ignore what God is doing, and think, “God has abandoned us. God has forsaken us.” Such a time in the churches of today causes us to do some serious questioning which often leads to a consensus that someone in the church has sinned. After a few more parking lot discussions it becomes clear that it is the pastor who has sinned. If the pastor was truly righteous and doing his/her job, the church would be overflowing with blessings. So the church gathers their pitchforks and torches and storm the parsonage gates. The pastor in frustration turns to God, “What am I do with these people?” And God says, “Give them something to drink. And stay on the road!”

Stay on the road!

We’ve got to stay on the road. God is taking us somewhere. God is taking us to the promise land, and I’m not talking about golden streets and green meadows. We’ve got to stay on the road. God is calling us to continue the work of our ancestors. God is calling us to service here in King and Queen County. God’s Spirit is moving within and around us. The Spirit of God is at work. We’ve got to stay on the road!

Jesus is on the road and he stops for a drink at well in Samaria. He asks a woman, “Give me something to drink.” She says to him, “How come a Jew like you is asking for a drink from a Samaritan woman like me?” (She did this as you know because Jews and Samaritans don’t have much to do with one another.)

Jesus says, “If you knew God’s goodness, and who it is asking you for a drink, you would ask him for a drink and he’d give you living water.”

And you know how the rest of the story goes. She is confused about how Jesus can give her living water because that water is deep and he doesn’t have a bucket. He tells her that the water he is talking about is a water that will never let you thirst again. She begs for that kind of water and Jesus tells her to go get her husband and she says she doesn’t have one. Jesus tells her she’s right when in fact she’s had five and the one she’s with now is not her husband. She realizes he’s a preacher and asks a serious question about worship and the two continue to talk until she says, “I realize that Christ is coming. When he does, he’ll straighten us out on everything.” And Jesus says to her, “I myself, the person talking with you, am he!”

And what does she do when she leaves? She doesn’t go back to her home. She doesn’t go back to her room. She doesn’t go to the local bar or to the general store. She gets on the road. She gets on the road and starts preaching! She starts preaching in the town square about a man down by the well who had told her everything she ever did. She then got the town on the road so that they too may drink from the spring of living water.

We have in us the spring of living water. In us, in our essence is a Spirit of living water that will never run dry. It is a Spirit of living water that renews us when our mouths get parched. It is the Spirit of living water that comes right from the rock of Christ. Indeed, on Christ the solid rock we stand, all other ground is sinking sand.

Those of us with the living water need to get up and get on the road.

And stay on the road!

You ever watch the nature channel? I learned this the other day. If you watch the nature channel’s special on the desert, most likely the narrator will begin by saying, “The desert. Void of life.” And then there’s a time lapse and you see the year in the life of the desert flash before your very eyes and you see rain. Then the video slows back down to normal speed and flowers begin to bloom. And the narrator says, “Gotcha. Under the sand of the desert, scattered throughout are little seeds just waiting for water.”

Outside our four walls sits people wandering through the desert. They are tired. They are lonely. They are poor. They are sick. They are lost. They are in need. They are blind. They are crippled. They are outcast. They are addicts. They are young. They are old. They are in need of some water. We need to get on the road and get them some water.

Stay on the road!

Yes, you may feel like we’re dying of thirst here in the desert as our money dries up and our building starts falling apart. Yes, you may feel like we’re getting too old for this stuff. But I remind you, we have the Spirit within us that gives us power, reminds us that we belong to God and that God is not through with us yet. The Spirit who is our parachute, our parasol, our paratrooper, our paralegal, our paramedic.   It is the Spirit that says, “Here’s water, drink, and get back on the road!”

Stay on the road!

And all God’s people said, “Stay on the road!”

Return to the Voice of the Gatekeeper

Every morning I was a youth minister in Richmond, I would walk through a smoky haze that built up under the awning. Under the smoke, on and around a bench sat or stood a group of recovering addicts who in their smoke search for hope. Every morning I said hello and spent a brief moment checking in. When I say moment, I mean a moment, no longer than a minute. For the most part it is no more than a simple hello. Each morning, after the greeting, I walked up the ramp way, unlocked the door, and went inside. Every morning my routine was the same.

One morning, April 20, 2011, it was the Wednesday before Easter, something strange happened. That morning my eyes saw something new. After a brief conversation with a young lady named Kim, I headed up the ramp way, and out of the smoke filled air I heard a voice saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you." I looked back and my eyes became open to what was taking place. There on the bench, as clear as you are to me, sat a long hair, bearded man saying to each one, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

I began to tear up knowing that the voice that was speaking out of the smoke of the desperation, out of the pain, out of the selfishness, out of the ignorance was the voice of the one shepherd who is the good shepherd. The one who says, "I am the gate," "I am the good shepherd," "I am the living water," "I am the bread of life," spoke out of a cloud of nicotine to people who were clinging to whatever hope they have. The voice of the gatekeeper, of the shepherd is bringing life to those who feel they have none.

I unlocked the door and turned back once more and the vision that came just seconds before remained: there sat Jesus saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

John 10 takes place right after Jesus heals a man born blind. You may recall this story. Jesus and his disciples are walking along and they pass a blind man. The disciples ask, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” Jesus responds, “Neither. He is blind so that God's work might be revealed in him.” Jesus then spits on the ground and puts mud in the man's eyes, tells him to wash in the pool. The Blind Man does as he is told and receives his sight. The story doesn't end there, remember?

The man is brought before the Pharisees and questioned. Eventually, he is thrown out of the synagogue for being made whole. Having heard this, Jesus seeks the man out and after revealing himself, the Pharisees near him say, “Surely, we are not blind. Are we?” Jesus responds, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see,” your sin remains.” Jesus then launches into his parable about a gate, gatekeepers, thieves, sheep, shepherds, destruction, and life.

Jesus doesn't speak in parables too often in John's gospel. At least, not parables we're accustomed to in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Those around Jesus look at him confusingly and he kindly explains. He is the gate. He is the gatekeeper. He is the one who has come so that all may have life and have it abundantly. Not only is he the gatekeeper, he is the shepherd. He is the good shepherd who lays down his life freely for his sheep. They know his voice, he calls them by name, and he knows them. Jesus explains, he alone is the gate, the gatekeeper, the shepherd, the voice that brings life.

Jesus' response to the Pharisees is an invitation. It's an invitation to freedom. Freedom from a restricting ideology that prohibits life, denying the light of the world for the people. Freedom from an ideology that only brings about death and destruction. Freedom from an ideology focused to preserve the past by fearing the future and stealing light from the present. Jesus is freeing them from what binds them. In many ways the church today has become the Pharisees of our world. Many of our prominent pastors have abandoned the church for talk shows, news hours, and political office while many others have built churches so great they have become an alter unto themselves, all for the sole purpose of control. Jesus' declaration to be the gate and the good shepherd, frees us from that which binds us: ourselves.

The voice of the gatekeeper brings life; the voice gives life. We fear we aren’t good enough so we ignore the voice. We cower in the dark. We fear we are unlovable and we create a list of rules to give ourselves a sense of security. Our actions say, “If I just follow these rules, I know Jesus will love me.” We fear we're doing it wrong and we put our trust in things of this world, things we can grasp, things we think we understand, instead of placing our trust in the one; the one who is both the gate and the good shepherd. Nothing but ourselves bind us to the voices of destruction and despair.

Jesus says, “I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly.” We yearn to become fully alive. We long to respond the voice that says, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” We desire a life free of our own damning, self-protective habits. Yet, there is a voice that tells us otherwise. A seductive voice that tells us we are unlovable. A voice that manipulates our insecurities and preys on our greatest fears. A voice that is nothing more than despair. A voice that says, “I fail and fail. I sin over and over again. I'm worthless. It is better that I get out of people's way, be forgotten, no longer around, dead.”

Christ has come to open our ears to another voice that says:

"I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits. Do not run away from me. Come back to me--not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God--the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you any more, and that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I so much want you to be close to me. I know all your thoughts. I hear all your words. I see all of your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but that will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you, 'I love you. I love you. I love you.'" (Nouwen, Henri, Show Me the Way, p.76-77)

There is a voice that cries to those of us who feel lost in the wilderness. A voice that cries out to us and says, "You are loved." It is a voice that knows our name. It is a voice that we know. A voice that cuts to our core. A voice that relieves our doubts, our fears. A voice that accepts. A voice that loves unconditionally. It is the voice of gatekeeper. It is the voice of Christ.

Listen to that voice. Hear the voice call your name. Hear the voice call you home and return. It reminds me of a story:

There was a man who had two sons. The younger son came to him and demanded his inheritance. The father divided his property between them and the younger son left home. He spends the entire fortune on women, wine, and dissolute living. Broke, he begs for a job feeding pigs. One day he decides, “I will go back to my father, after all how many of his hired hands are treated better than this. I will leave here, go to him, ask to be forgiven and to be hired.” So, he leaves. While the younger son was still far off, the father saw him and was filled with compassion; the father runs to him throwing his arms around him and kisses him. The son begins his practiced speech but the father tells a slave, “Bring some clothes, put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Get the fatted calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate! For my son has returned.”

The younger son, in no uncertain terms, wished his father dead when he demanded his inheritance. His motivation to return to his father is not out of a renewed love. He doesn't even really want to be a part of the family again. He simply wants to be hired. His motivation is about his own security. His own safety. He returns to simply survive. Here's the kicker, the father doesn't care. He doesn't even allow his son to finish his confession. He embraces him saying, “He's back home, and I am so glad to have him with me again.”

Let us listen to that voice of the gatekeeper, the voice of our good shepherd, and let us return home.